


Learning to Fly Part 2 of 2

by The_Magic_Rat



Series: Learning to Fly [2]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M, M/M Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 19:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7451998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Magic_Rat/pseuds/The_Magic_Rat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cid decides it's time to fly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning to Fly Part 2 of 2

Vincent was so glad to be home he wanted to cry. It had been five long days since he had seen the inside of the sordid little hovel, and the bed had never felt so good. He was drugged and sleepy, medications coursing through his body, battling the persistent infections, helping him to recover so the first of a series of surgeries to properly set his shattered limbs and ribs could take place. Tifa and Yuffie walked in after Cid, and stared in horror at the dump Cid and Vincent called home.

“Eeeeeyeeeeeewwww…” said Yuffie.

“Cid Highwind, you keep Vincent in this mess?!” Tifa asked, horrified.

Cid snorted. “Vincent don’t care, remember where we found _him_?”

Yuffie walked over to the fridge, opening it, and rapidly slammed it shut once more. “There are _things_ in there… with _eyes_!”

“Yeah well Vin and I have a rule; first person to bitch about the mess cleans it,” said Cid.

“The only thing you could do with _that_ fridge is burn it and buy a new one!” said Yuffie.

“Matches are over there. Tifa help me get him settled, he’s boneless. How ya doin’ there, Vin? Little high?”

Vincent let Cid and Tifa get him settled against the headboard, then closed his eyes, utterly, blissfully, content, listening to his friends around him.

“Well I can’t say much for your housekeeping skills,” said Tifa. “But Vincent seems happy.”

“Yeah, well, he’s not real hard to please,” said Cid. “Sorta hoping that once he gets better he’ll decide to hang around.”

Well _that_ was encouraging. 

“Awwwww….” Tifa cooed. “You’re such a big softie under all that dirt and nicotine.”

Cid snorted. “Yeah, well, I’m something of an asshole, too. See, I didn’t spend all my savings on Vin. I kinda held a few bucks back to get Missy a present.” 

That… was _less_ encouraging. Vincent opened an eye and watched Cid as he opened a nearby tool chest and pulled out a small, black velvet box, passing it to Tifa. 

“Think she’ll like that?”

Tifa opened the box and gasped loudly, drawing one hand up to her heart.

“Cid it’s _gorgeous_!”

Yuffie abandoned her futile quest to pull something out of the fridge and bounced over to see what Tifa held. Her eyes lit up at the sight of the ring.

“WOW! Jeez for a ring like that _I’d_ marry you!”

“So you think she’ll like it?” asked Cid. “I’m not good at this romance stuff.”

“Cid if she doesn’t love it then there is something very wrong with her,” said Tifa. “When are you going to ask her?”

“I thought tonight, if you don’t mind doing some Vin-sitting..?”

“I’d be delighted,” said Tifa.

Vincent’s good mood departed in a rush, heading right out the door, slamming it as it left for parts unknown. Cid was going to ask Missy to marry him. This was it; this was the end of everything. No more movies, no more late-night pizza, no more comfortable nights listening to Cid’s heart beat as he slept, reaching out to shyly take his hand and pretend for a while they were lovers. Once he was well, it would be time to leave. Time to return to his solitary existence, and let Cid get on with his life. He’d been enough of an imposition.

***---***

Cid wasn’t sure what he expected Missy’s reaction to be when he gave her the ring, but he was a bit overwhelmed by the leaping and shrieking. He was almost tempted to find her a doctor. Then she leapt on him, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him.

“YES! I will! I’ve been waiting for you to ask!”

“I was worried you wouldn’t like the ring,” he admitted.

“What’s not to like? It’s gorgeous! I love it! It must have cost a fortune!”

“Well I would have liked to have spent more, but… you know.”

“Vincent,” she said. “I know. It’s lovely.” She released him to hold her hand out and view the diamond set into the platinum band, watching it glitter in the moonlight. “It’s gorgeous. Oh you’re so sweet.” She kissed him, taking his hand, then stepping back, brown eyes bright. “I can’t wait to tell my parents.”

“Yeah they’ll be thrilled, I’m sure,” grumbled Cid, ginning. “They think I’m too old for you.”

“That’s just them. You’re only thirty-seven. Oh there’s just so much to think about! Catering, a dress, bridesmaids, reception… where will we live?”

“What do you mean where will we live? I have a house.”

“No,” she said, laughing, “you have a storage shed that you live in. We’ll need someplace larger, if we are going to start a family.”

“We can add on. I like my house. Besides I can’t afford a new house, Missy, you know that. I blew almost every cent I have on your ring.”

“And Vincent,” she said, her tone reproachful.

Cid sighed, putting an arm around her as they continued their stroll by the pond. “Can we please not argue about Vincent? Poor guy has enough problems.”

“I don’t have a problem with Vincent,” she said. “He seems like a perfectly lovely man, apart from the fact that he has the social skills of a naked mole rat.”

“He _is_ a little dysfunctional in the people-skills department,” admitted Cid affectionately.

“He tried to bite me.”

“Means he likes you,” said Cid.

“Well then I’m glad he doesn’t love me!” She laughed.

“Oh, well, if he loved you we’d have to turn the hose on him.”

Missy laughed again. “You’re awful! So, when can we get married?” She took his arm and pulled him close, gazing up at him. “June weddings are nice.”

“Okay, June of next year it is.”

Missy blinked in surprise. “Next year?”

“Well it can’t be this year, June is only three months away, I can’t afford to get married that soon. I told you…”

Missy rolled her eyes and made a sound of aggravation. “I know! Vincent needs an operation! Our whole relationship has revolved around your room mate. How would you feel if I was spending my nights in bed with another girl?”

Cid raised an eyebrow and grinned. Missy punched him in the shoulder. He flinched and rubbed the spot where she had struck him, laughing.

“Look, Missy, he’s there because he can’t breathe. Once he can I’m sure he’ll be happy to have his own bed.”

“I can’t _wait_ until he’s well, and he and his gun collection can move out!”

Cid gave her a look. “Move out? He can’t move out, it could be years before he’s well. Who will look after him?”

“Well can’t you put him in a home? Why do _you_ have to look after him? He’s costing you a fortune, he’s holding up our wedding, and frankly I’m not sure I want him around our future children.”

Cid stopped short, staring at Missy, jaw hanging in astonishment. She gazed back at him, arms crossed, expression one of irritation.

“Missy,” said Cid, “I don’t think you understand. The reason we are able to stand here now and argue about whether to have the wedding this June or next June is because that man, who has never once said a bad thing about you, despite the fact I have repeatedly heard you use the word ‘freak’ to describe him, and once to his face, went into a hellpit of the likes you can’t even _imagine_ , and had his body shattered so the rest of us didn’t end up dead!” Cid found himself becoming extremely angry, fighting to contain it. “You have no idea what he has been through.”

“That was almost three years ago, Cid. Don’t you think it’s time to move on?”

The infamous Highwind temper was rising closer to the surface. “Move on?! You don’t think he wouldn’t love to move on?! That man used to be able to _fly_ , Missy, he could fly like a bird, leap into the air and move with the grace of a swallow. He was given a gift I would kill for, and now he’s lucky if he can get to the fridge on his own.”

“Cid I’ve seen your fridge, he would be luckier to get away from it.” She looked into his eyes, seeing the anger, and softened her voice, trying to placate him. “Cid, the people at the home could make sure he has what he needs and we could get on with our lives! I don’t see what the big deal is! He would be looked after, he’d be comfortable, and we could… I dunno… bring him over on weekends or something.”

Cid’s teeth ground together audibly. “I am not putting my best friend in a nursing home,” he growled.

“Well you’re going to have to do _something_ with him; I’m not exposing our future children to him. He plays with guns and he’s dangerous and we can’t afford to look after him. That’s all there is to it. Can’t you give him to Tifa? Gawd _there’s_ a woman in need of a man.”

“Tifa could have any damned man she likes, but a _lady_ picks her gentlemen carefully,” Cid snarled.

“Well give her Vincent and they can play Beauty and the Beast,” said Missy. “Because frankly I’m fed up with the whole issue.”

Cid stared at Missy. “So that’s what my friends are to you. Tifa is a hard-up spinster and Vincent’s a monster. Let me tell you something, Missy, I’ve been to hell and back with those people and there is nothing I wouldn’t do for _any_ of them, and that includes Yuffie the Wonder-Brat. Each and every last one of them has saved my neck at least once, and they would do for me what I’m doing for Vincent in a heartbeat.”

“So let one of them carry the load for a while!” said Missy. “Why does it have to be you?”

“You mean why does it have to be _you_?” said Cid. “That’s what you’re really saying, isn’t it? Because if you move in with me and he’s there then you’ll have to help look after him.”

“And I’m not doing that,” said Missy.

“I’m not asking you to.”

“No, you’re not, you’re just asking me to have him as a house pet. It’s going to make sex awful interesting having him sitting there in bed with us, cleaning that sniper rifle!” Clearly Missy had been harbouring some resentment over the situation. “And frankly I don’t like the way you keep bringing him up in conversation, about how he could fly, how beautiful he was in the air, how you loved to watch him. It’s not natural and I don’t like it!”

“Not natural?! For fuck sake’s Missy, most people would _kill_ to be able to do what he could do, what’s ‘unnatural’ about wanting to be able to defy gravity? You never saw him, you have no idea what it was like to watch him.”

“So you’re squandering money that should be spent on our future on Vincent so you can… what? Live out some dream about unassisted flight vicariously? Because that’s what this is about, Cid. If _he_ can fly then _you_ can fly. You get to watch him take to the air and live out your fantasies through him. You don’t really care if he gets well so long as you can use him to your own selfish ends.”

There was an element of truth to her words, and it stung like a slap in the face, making him flinch and back up. Cid didn’t miss the glint of victory in Missy’s eyes as she saw she had landed her blow successfully. It was true. There was a lot of selfishness involved in what he was doing. He desperately coveted the gift Vincent had been given, and the reason he wanted him to have it back was so he could bask in it. And there were other reasons surrounding the issue as well. If he had to take care of Vincent, then there was no time or money for other things. He’d succeeded in comfortably putting his wedding off for a year; chances were he’d find another reason to do it again, blaming Vincent’s condition. That way he could be with Missy without having to take her needs into consideration. He was free as a bird, off on his own, getting what he wanted from Missy while comfortably held back by Vincent. Flight without any responsibility or effort, every man’s dream.

 _‘So much for being Vincent’s best friend,’_ thought Cid miserably. ‘Cid Highwind you are without a doubt the most selfish and controlling son of a bitch on the planet.’

Missy stepped close, taking his hand, looking into his eyes. “Cid let Vincent go. Let’s get on with our lives. There are places you can take him. He’ll be looked after.”

Cid was still sorting his feelings. _Was_ all this purely selfish? Was that the only reason he had Vincent planted in the living room for what was now almost three years? He _liked_ Vincent. Vincent made him happy. They always seemed to have fun together, even with Vincent anchored to the bed. And so far as Cid knew, he was the only person who made Vincent laugh, _really_ laugh, as opposed to that quiet little amused sound. Yeah, maybe his reasons for wanting to see him well _were_ selfish. Maybe he was using Vincent to keep his own life from becoming too complicated. But he did care about him deeply, and the thought of putting him in some small sterile hospital version of a storage closet made him want to vomit.

“I can’t do that, Missy. I can’t put him away.”

“So what you are really saying is you don’t want to be with me.”

He snapped his gaze towards her. “That is _not_ true. But friends don’t bail on each other.”

“I don’t want you to bail on him! I just want to be able to start my life! We’ve been going out for almost a year, I’m nearly twenty-one, all my _friends_ are married! Do you know how embarrassing it is to have to tell people the reason my boyfriend won’t ask me to marry him is because of this guy in his bed? Do you have any idea what people in this village are saying about you two? How do you think this affects _me_?!”

Well, well. It seemed Cid Highwind wasn’t the only selfish person here. “Missy, those people can go to hell.”

She was horrified. “How dare you say that, those people are my friends, I can’t just blow them off!”

“So your friends are important and mine are expendable?”

“At least _my_ friends are normal! Have you _looked_ at those people you’re with? After we’re married they’ll have to go, I’m not having them around the kids. And I’m sorry, I’ve tried to be nice about this, but I want Vincent out of the house. I’m not starting married life with him in bed with us; it’s just out of the question.”

Cid nodded, taking a cigarette out of the pack in his shirt pocket and sticking it into his mouth, lighting it. “You don’t have to worry about having him in bed with us.”

“Good. So what are you going to do with him?”

“I ain’t doing anything with him,” said Cid, putting the pack and the lighter back into his pocket. “I’m taking my ring back.”

Missy blinked, not comprehending what he had just said. “What?” she finally asked.

“My ring, please.”

She shook her head. “You… you’re breaking up with me?”

“I don’t see that I have much choice. Vincent’s not disposable and he’s not a house cat to be given away. And frankly this conversation has made me wonder how much care and compassion I’ll get from you if ever I’m in a crippling accident. Ring?”

Missy stared at him, rage and hurt filling her brown eyes as she yanked the ring off, handing it back to Cid. “Here. I hope the two of you are very happy together.” Then as a parting shot, she added; “You’re probably fucking him anyway.”

Cid watched her go, running down the path back to the little house where she lived with her parents. A nice girl in a nice house, with a nice life, who didn’t understand what Cid and Vincent and their friends had been through so she could have those things. That was what had attracted Cid to her in the first place; she didn’t know. She was removed from the horrors they had seen. She didn’t understand his feelings for Vincent, or where they had been together, and what they had done. She was young and innocent and self-absorbed, and had no idea what others had done to give her that luxury. Cid looked down at the ring he held, then sighed, stuffing it into his pocket as he walked back to his little wreck of a house. 

He walked into the house, stopping dead at the sight that greeted him; floors scrubbed, dishes done, table cleared, laundry washed, windows cleaned… the woman had even arranged his tool boxes. He glanced over at Vincent, dozing comfortably on clean pillows beneath clean sheets.

“Bloody hell, how did you do that?” asked Cid.

“It was easy,” said Tifa dryly. “I just asked the fire department to let me use a hose and a hydrant. I found frozen chicken and thought I’d make dinner for Vincent.”

“No offence, Tifa, but Vin won’t touch chicken. He’s the fussiest son of a bitch you ever saw when it comes to food. You and me can eat it.”

Tifa watched him walk over to the jar on the table in which he kept his change, and made a small sound of distress as she saw him drop the ring into it.

“There, donated to the Fix Vin Fund,” said Cid. “One thirty-five hundred gil engagement ring.”

“She said no,” said Tifa. “Oh Cid I am so sorry.”

“No, she said yes. And then we had a huge fight about Vincent.” Cid walked over to the fridge and opened it, pausing. “You cleaned the _fridge_? How did you manage to _clean_ the _fridge_?”

“I used my ‘heal’ materia. It removes anything dead and putrid. Worked really well.”

“I wish I’d thought of that. Want a beer?”

“Sure.”

Cid handed Tifa a beer, and closed the fridge, opening his own beer. Tifa watched him, sympathy in her eyes.

“I’m sorry about Missy.”

“Yeah, me too,” said Cid. “But what can I do? She wanted me to put Vincent in a home. I can’t put him in a home. Look at him. You know we can say he was the best man for the job and he had the best chance of surviving and all that crap, but the truth of it is we were scared. I know I was. I didn’t want to face those bastards. We sent him down there alone and now he’s crippled, and I’m NOT putting him away just to make my life more convenient.”

Tifa smiled, reaching out to give his arm a friendly squeeze. “Vincent’s lucky to have you. We all are. And she was, too. Give Missy some time. She might come around.”

“I don’t think so. She accused me of sleeping with him.”

Tifa giggled. “Well you are.”

“Not that way!” He managed a faint smile, gazing at the form in the bed. “How is he?”

“He’s in mourning for the grease-bunny family I pulled out from behind the stove.”

“You killed our grease-bunnies?! Tifa how could you! We named them and everything!”

Tifa laughed. “You two deserve each other!”

“Yeah, well, at least Vincent never asked me to put Missy in a home. And he’s the only person who likes my lasagne.”

“The fact that he’s undead may be a contributing factor.”

Cid glared at her, then took a dish towel and smacked her with it. “Bad wench! No cookie for you!”

Tifa laughed. “C’mon, sit down. I want to see you eat so I know you have had one decent meal in you for the year. If Vincent’s so picky then what do you feed him?”

Cid seated himself at the table. “Crullers, mostly, and omelettes and bagels.”

“Crullers? Bagels? Cid… the rest of us may have to sue for custody.”

“Go right ahead, you’ll give him right back after the first time he shape-shifts on you for attempting to feed him vegetables.”

“Oh he never would!” Tifa began serving dinner, laying food on plates that had not been so clean in years.

“I mean it, the man never met a veggie he wasn’t deeply suspicious of. And never give him a hamburger. I gave him a hamburger once. It took him three hours to eat it. He pulled the entire thing apart to make sure there was nothing scary in it. The guy has serious food issues. So after a while it just degenerated to…”

“Crullers and bagels,” said Tifa. “Well we’ll have to work on that. Does he eat fruit?”

“If I hop my neighbour’s fence and steal it, he does. If it comes from a store, forget it. And he’ll know the difference. I don’t know how, but he will.”

Tifa rolled her eyes. “Was he always that fussy and we never noticed?”

“He’s ten thousand small quirks all rolled into one gunslinger. And I know most of them by heart.”

Tifa laid a plate before him, then sat down with her own. “You’re very fond of Vincent, aren’t you?”

“Fond enough I ain’t tossing him in a home. Don’t think I could live with myself.” Cid began picking idly at his dinner, looking thoughtful. “Missy said something that… really hurt. She said I’m using him. Using him to shirk responsibility, and live out my own dreams.”

“Shirk responsibility? That’s ludicrous! How is caring for another human being shirking responsibility?”

“Well, for one thing it’s a great excuse to put off a wedding.”

Tifa blinked, her expression one of confusion. “But you love Missy. Why would you put off the wedding?”

“I do love Missy. I love being with her, her sense of humour, the way she looks, everything. But… she wants the white picket fence and the nine-to-five job and the two-point-five kids and… I don’t think that’s me. I mean not that I wouldn’t do it, but… I have to admit I feel like I want something else. I’m not sure what. I know this body ain’t getting any younger, but up here,” Cid tapped his temple, “I’m sixteen and there’s just still stuff I want to do. Maybe in ten years I’ll be ready for the white picket fence. Or maybe Vincent and I will just resign ourselves to our sordid existence and become grease-bunny breeders. Of course thanks to you we’ll need new breeding stock.”

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not,” he growled good-naturedly. “Bunny-killer.”

***---***

The treatments were agonizing. Vincent didn’t know anything could hurt as badly as what the doctors were doing. The suffering cut through the most powerful of pain medications, tearing at him, ripping his flesh into a thousand pieces like shards of glass. By the time the first treatment was over he was limp and weeping and didn’t care who saw. It was more than most of his friends could bear to watch. It was almost more than even the medical staff could bear, and the fact that they clearly hated to see him enduring such torture was the only thing that made it remotely tolerable. That, and Cid’s hand on his shoulder as he stood behind him, supporting him, managing to find the strength to remain in the room.

“What are the chances this will help?” demanded Cid, and Vincent found it strange to hear his voice choked with emotion. “Are we putting him through hell for nothing?”

“Once the treatments are done it will be as if his bones were never broken. He will be the same as he was before the attack. I know it’s hard to watch him go through this. But in less than a year he will have full mobility.”

Vincent closed his eyes, relishing the feel of Cid’s hand stroking his hair. “You hear that?” Cid said. “You’re gonna fly again.”

“Wanna go home,” Vincent muttered, eyes closed.

“Can he go?” Cid asked the doctor.

“He can go. Take him straight home to bed. Make sure he has one injection every twelve hours, and make him eat, whether he likes it or not. This treatment will burn a lot of calories and use up an enormous amount of physical resources. If he’s not eating he won’t get well, he could even get worse.”

“You hear that ya picky shit?” said Cid. “That means I get to make you eat something other than crullers and bagels for a change.”

“He can still have crullers and bagels. Just make him eat other things as well. Preferably anything high in protein and calcium. And if he won’t eat, bring him back and we’ll make sure he gets what he needs.” The doctor bent down and peered into Vincent’s face. “That’s a threat, Mr. Valentine. Doctors like nothing better than to force good nutrition on helpless victims.”

“I’ll make sure he eats,” said Cid. “I’ve got a funnel and a bicycle pump.”

“Good. Use them. Make sure he gets lots of rest, and bring him back in three weeks so we can do it all over again.”

Vincent hardly noticed the trip home. He was weak and exhausted, and all he wanted was his own bed. He was utterly limp as Cid finally pulled up before their house _(when did it become THEIR house?)_ and stopped the car, getting out to walk around to Vincent’s side of the vehicle. Cid opened the door and reached in, picking him up.

“Come on, let’s get inside. You’ve had enough for one day.”

Boy that was the truth. He could still feel the drill bit going into his bones so the needles could inject the drugs that would start the regeneration process. Vincent sighed quietly, closing his eyes, dangling limply in Cid’s arms.

“Hi,” said a subdued female voice.

“Missy,” said Cid, sounding surprised.

“Can we talk?”

“Uhhh… sorta got my hands full.”

“I’ll get the door. Is he okay?”

“No,” said Cid, sounding mildly annoyed. “He’s had holes drilled into his skeleton so doctors could inject drugs into his marrow, and then they had to inject more into the spinal fluid, and he’s been screaming for the last three hours.”

“I’m sorry.”

Vincent heard the door being pulled open, and felt Cid carry him inside. It was so good to be home. He heard Missy follow them inside.

“I was hoping… sometime soon we could go for a walk, and talk.”

_‘No! Cid please don’t leave me…’_

“Yeah, all right. But… not today, okay? He sorta needs me.”

“I need you.”

_‘I need him, too.’_

“Missy, please. We can’t talk about this right now. I can’t leave him alone and frankly Vincent doesn’t need the stress of having us argue overtop of him.”

“Cid, we have to talk about this.”

“Yeah, I agree. And I’m not brushing you off, all I’m saying is not right now. Okay? Come on, look at him. If that was you lying there wouldn’t you want me to stay?”

“It’s not the same, Cid. He’s a guy, I’m your girlfriend.”

“You’re my _ex_ -girlfriend, and you’re getting ex-er by the minute.”

“Fine. How about tomorrow night? I’ll come by about eight.”

“Okay. Tomorrow at eight it is.”

“By the pond?”

“Okay.”

“Okay. See you then.”

Vincent heard her leave, and felt a sickness within that had nothing to do with the brutality of his treatments. Then he felt Cid ease himself into bed beside him, and the sickness decreased slightly. Vincent allowed Cid to gently prop him up, drawing him close, moving a stray bit of hair out of his face.

“You never complain,” said Cid quietly. “You never say a word.”

_‘I have nothing to complain about.’_

“Just you and me tonight. What do you want to do?”

_‘Well this is nice…’_

“Order pizza and watch some bad action movies?”

 _‘I’d rather see if it’s physically possible to ravish you with most of my bones and muscles burning like hell fire.’_ “Okay.”

Cid gently tipped Vincent’s chin up, seeming to realize more was wrong than just the pain in his friend’s bones. “You okay?”

Vincent opened his eyes, and felt something deep inside crack, some small piece of iron resolve flaking and bending. Cid was so damned close, he was right before him, mere inches away. Close enough that Vincent could see his blue eyes were actually just the slightest bit green, and the small, thin scar in his left eyebrow. It would be so easy to part his lips and claim one brief kiss. He wanted to so badly. Slowly Vincent reached one hand up, and gently placed it on Cid’s wrist, watching the expression in the blue eyes shift from friendly concern to confusion. Cid glanced at the small hand on his arm.

“Um… Vin? Why did you just do that?”

 _‘You really are the thickest man alive.’_ “I… didn’t think you’d let me kiss you.”

The confusion became concern. “Didn’t think I’d…?” Cid sat up. “Vincent… how long have you felt this way?”

“I don’t know. Centuries. Whole lifetimes.”

“But… you never _said_ anything! Nothing! Ever! Not a word!”

“I thought it was better to remain silent than see disgust in your eyes.”

“Why would you disgust me?” Cid looked like a man on the verge of hysterics. “Vincent for crying out loud why would you _DO_ that to yourself?! Bloody hell, lying here beside me, watching me start a relationship with Missy, leaving you here alone at night and… you didn’t do or say anything… just… alone and… you _never said a word!_ ” Cid rose from the bed, the expression in his eyes like that of a man who has just been shot in the guts, overwhelmed with horror. “You just sat there and _took_ all that… just to be _near_ me?”

Vincent nodded slowly.

“For fuck’s sakes! And you say you have nothing to complain about?! Why didn’t you _do_ something, _say_ something, _scream_ something?”

“If I was silent, I could stay. If I spoke up, you might not let me remain here.”

“And you were willing to live in agony like that just to be here?”

“I’m not bothered by agony, Cid. I’ve been in agony of some kind for thirty years.”

“Vincent that’s… HORRID!”

“What is?”

‘THAT YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH ME AND YOU WERE CONTENT TO SUFFER THROUGH YEARS OF SHIT JUST TO BE WITH ME!”

“I don’t see why.”

“No of course you don’t because you just sit there and _take_ this shit! You think it’s perfectly fine for people to run over your feelings and never spare a thought for yourself! If I’d known…”

“You didn’t.”

“I should have.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Well I know now.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. I… I suddenly don’t like myself a whole lot. My god I can’t believe what I put you through.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Cid. You didn’t know.”

Cid began to pace, looking distressed. Vincent watched him, worry in his eyes. 

“What do you want me to do?” Cid abruptly stopped and asked, looking at Vincent.

“Cid I can’t…”

“Vincent,” said Cid firmly. “I’m asking. What do you want?”

“What do _I_ want?” repeated Vincent, surprised.

“Yeah. What do you want? You never once in all the time we have known each other asked me for a damned thing. So I’m asking for you. What do you want?”

“I… want you,” Vincent admitted quietly.

Cid nodded. “Okay,” he said, his voice equally soft. “You got me. Damned if I know how we’ll work this out but… you got me.”

“And what about Missy?”

“Well she wanted to talk things over. So we’ll talk things over. Don’t think she’ll much like what I have to say, though.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well for one thing you’re on the other side of the room.”

Cid looked around, as if realizing where he was. “Oh, yeah. Sorry about that.” He walked over to the bed and got onto it, moving carefully, easing himself down onto the yielding surface. He cautiously took Vincent into the familiar embrace, suddenly made new and thrilling. Cid held him close, looking into the red eyes, concerned for him.

“Are you okay?” asked Cid.

“I am now.”

“I really wish you had said something.”

“I’m starting to wish I had as well.”

“It’s… gonna take a while for me to adjust to this idea, I think,” said Cid. “But you know the funny thing is… it already feels right. Feels… perfect.” He smiled, and reached up to touch Vincent’s face, stroking the long black hair. “You must be exhausted. Snuggle close. Get some sleep.”

Vincent pressed close, placing an arm across Cid’s chest, burying his face against his throat. It was so good. And this time it wasn’t stolen guilty pleasure. It was given freely, with love. He felt Cid rest his chin on the top of his head, and slid into a comfortable sleep. He finally had what he needed most. Everything else he could survive.

***---***

Cid made his way down to the pond where so often he and Missy would meet, turning things over in his mind. He remembered how happy he had been when he first began seeing her, how he couldn’t wait to meet with her, be with her. They had spent so many nights by this pond, swimming, drinking, making love, making plans. And poor Vincent would be home, crippled, isolated, loving him, waiting for him, hoping he would come back, crying in the solitary darkness when he didn’t. It hadn’t been easy to get Vincent to admit how things had looked from his end of the situation, but with a little wine and a few hot crullers the story had finally come out. And Cid hated himself for not noticing the pain Vincent had been in. Oh he’d noticed the physical pain well enough. That was easy to spot. But every now and then there would be a brief flash of utter agony in the jewelled eyes, like something was just dying to come out.

And he never… said... a word. Vincent would rather live in hell than without him. It was humbling as well as heart-breaking, and Cid still wasn’t sure how things would progress between them. He wasn’t sure this would ever be a sexual relationship, but he did know one thing. He’d found his partner in life. He’d found his significant other, his better half, all those damned euphemisms, he’d found them. All the things he had been searching for had been sleeping beside him for nearly three years, silently bearing his pain, wanting nothing more than to be by his side.

Yeah, it was humbling all right. Without raising so much as a finger, Vincent had brought him to his knees. 

Missy bounced up to him, leaping on him with a squeak of delight as she so often had, and kissed him. Cid managed a smile, but knew what he was about to do was right. Missy could get on with her life, and he and Vincent could start theirs, together, they way it should have been all along.

“So do you forgive me?” she asked, doing that little pout he used to think was so cute.

“I forgive you.”

“And we can put all this behind us?”

“Yeah, we can do that.”

“And we can get married next June?”

He shook his head. “Sorry Missy. There won’t be a wedding. I’m… seeing someone.”

She stepped back, shocked and hurt. “ _Seeing_ someone? But we only broke up two weeks ago! You already found someone?”

“More like I realized who I should have been with all this time.”

Missy took another step back. “But I don’t understand! I thought I meant something to you.”

“You did. Once. But… I think it’s better this way. You deserve someone more your own age. Someone more likely to give you what you want. Because all those things that mean so much to you just aren’t the things I want. I don’t want the nice suburban life with the kids and the dog and the neighbours over for barbecues in summer. I want my airships and my dirty little house and my weirdo friends. You’re a nice girl Missy, and… I really do love you. But this isn’t going to work. I found someone that I love in a way I can’t even explain. I hope you find someone like that.”

The big brown eyes filled with tears. “But I don’t understand! We only broke up two weeks ago! You’ve already moved on? How could you do that?! Who is it? Who are you seeing?”

“Missy…”

“I damned near married you, I have a right to know!”

“You won’t like it.”

“Just tell me it’s not that bitch Sadie Marsh!”

“MISSY! Gawd damn, why don’t you just accuse me of sleeping with your Maltese?”

“I thought you once said she was sexy.”

“I said I thought her _car_ was sexy. I think Sadie barks at mailmen.”

“Well that’s a relief. So who is it?”

Cid drew a breath. “Vincent.”

Missy just stared at him, shaking her head in disbelief. “Son of a bitch. I should have known. Well have a nice life, shit-packer. But if I have anything to do with it, you won’t be living it here in this village.”

Cid watched her leave, feeling a sadness within himself. He hadn’t realized that loving Vincent was going to have ramifications. He hadn’t realized he might be forced out of the place he had spent nearly all his life. That was okay, though. Maybe it was time to move on. Maybe he’d spent so much time desperately waiting for Vincent to fly again he hadn’t realized he should be spreading his own wings.

He began walking back to the house, suddenly needing to talk to someone in a similar situation. He took out his phone, and called Cloud. However it was not Cloud who answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey Reno, it’s Cid. Is Cloud there?”

“No, he’s working. Got a little mercenary job outside Midgar, won’t be back until tomorrow. Can I help?”

“I don’t know, I’m just… going through a little culture shock here. I… uh… well… me and Vincent have sorta… hooked up.”

“Congratulations. He’s pretty. I always thought you’d make a nice couple.”

“Yeah well I just got called a shit-packer by Missy.”

“I would say the girl’s a bit bitter. I would also say get your pretty vampire out of that quaint little village. People are about to get very strange on you. People you thought were your best and closest friends will suddenly not be much inclined to talk to you. That includes family, by the way.”

“Yeah, sorta suspected as much. How do you handle it?”

“Me? I’m dirt, always have been. That’s why I became a Turk. Coming out of the closet didn’t tarnish my lily-white existence at all. A few more hard looks and dirty names didn’t mean anything. And I was pleasantly surprised to see who my real friends were. I know you don’t much like Rude, but he’s been with me through everything. I even showed up in his bed once wearing nothing but a ribbon.”

Cid laughed. “What did he do?”

“Asked me if I’d like a beer and did I care if he watched the news. Needless to say I remained a wrapped package.”

“That sucks.”

“Well, I’ve got Cloud now, and I wouldn’t trade him. Rude’s hopelessly straight anyway. But Cid? Seriously. Move.”

“Move where?”

“Cloud and I have a spare room. Just… dump the old crap and come stay with us. We’ll look after you until you get a new place. New location, new relationship, new life…”

“Sounds like just the thing we need. Vincent and I will be there in three hours. We can work out what to do with the house and other crap later.”

“I’ll put the beer on ice and call for pizza.”

Cid hung up, and looked around, gazing at the little village where he had lived the better part of his life. He’d liked it here. But Reno was right. Time for a new life. 

Time to fly.

***---***

“The more things change, the more they stay the same,” said Tifa. “Cid, these grease-bunnies are _huge_.”

“You leave my grease-bunnies alone. I paid good money to have those grease-bunnies imported from Rocket Town.”

“Yeah, the bunnies, the Fridge of Doom, the Shower of No Return, the whole damned house!”

“Vincent likes the bed. And the bed’s built into the wall. It had to come.”

“Could you at least paint the outside?”

“No, because people won’t recognize the place. All our mail will go somewhere else.”

Tifa rolled her eyes. “And poor Vincent has to live with this.”

“I never hear him complain.”

“Oh and we all know what a rabid complainer Vincent is.”

“Yup. Never shuts up.”

“Cid, clean the house, or the rest of us are suing for custody of Vincent.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Cid watched Tifa leave, then closed the door behind her, turning to look around at the room in which he stood. “Well, it’s been a year, but we’re finally home again.”

“Cid,” said Vincent, “you didn’t have to bring the house from Rocket Town.”

Cid walked over to the bed, stripping off his shirt and lying down on his stomach, facing Vincent. “Yeah I did. This was your first home in decades. We both love this place. Tifa is right, though, it wouldn’t kill us to clean up once in a while.” He reached out and trailed his finger tips over Vincent’s face. “How you feeling?”

“I’m all right.”

“Vincent,” said Cid, “those treatments were hard on you. And you’ve had eight of them. It’s all right to crab about it.”

“They’re over. I can recover now. I… don’t feel too bad.”

“No you’re just black and blue and look like you went twenty rounds with a heavy weight boxer.” Cid kissed him softly, then stoked his hair. “Well it’s our first night back in our old house. What do you want to do?”

Vincent smiled. “Anything?”

“Anything at all.”

“You might not like it.”

Cid lowered his head so their brows met. “Try me.”

“I really want to make love to that big beautiful body of yours.”

Cid paused, grinning, his expression just the smallest bit concerned. “We’ve… never done that.”

“No. We’ve never even been naked in the same bed.”

“Are you up for that? I mean, are you okay? Vin you look like you’ve been through a war.”

“Cid I feel better than I have in years. The last treatment was a week ago.” Vincent smiled. “Of course… if you’re scared….”

Cid cleared his throat. “A little, yeah. I’ve heard fairly unpleasant things about… you know…”

“Having a man inside you?”

“Yeah that. I mean… what’s it like?”

Vincent kissed his nose. “Well some men hate it, some men tolerate it… and some men completely lose their minds over it.”

“So… one in three chance this will be the best sex of my existence.” Cid narrowed his eyes. “And just how many men have you had?”

“One. Just one. A very long time ago.” Vincent kissed Cid softly. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine.”

“No, we can try. What do we do?”

“Just relax. I’ll handle everything.”

Cid did, rolling onto his back, arms behind his head, watching Vincent. He really did look as if he had been through a war, but he seemed to be moving well, despite the hideous round bruises where the injections had been administered. He was tall, but he was slender, fine-boned, and once more graceful. The brutally painful treatments had done their job. Vincent’s bones were whole and straight again.

Vincent slowly undressed Cid, removing the heavy boots, the socks, the stained workpants, revealing a powerful body and a large, partially erect penis. Vincent lowered his head, his silken hair trailing over Cid’s flat stomach, sliding his lips over the head. Cid closed his eyes and uttered a small groan of pleasure.

Well Missy certainly never did _that_. Not that he didn’t _ask_.

He relaxed, letting Vincent take control, drawing one leg up as he felt his lover’s long, slender fingers begin to explore him, touching him. Cid was a little surprised at himself for taking this so well; he’d always thought that if some man tried to get on top of him his response would not be “Sure we can try that.” But this wasn’t some guy, this was Vincent, and frankly if Vincent wanted to screw his brains out, that was fine. More than fine. And if having Vincent inside him didn’t work, well hey, they could always try it with him inside Vincent.

Oh yeah, he liked that idea. That was next on the list.

“Next time, I get to be inside you.”

Vincent made a soft sound of agreement, his mouth currently full. Then he slipped one long finger into Cid, and was startled when Cid’s fist hit the wall with a resounding _‘thud’_. Vincent raised his head.

“Was that displeasure? Did I hurt you?”

Cid had his head flung back, his chest heaving, eyes fixed on the ceiling with a look of astonishment in them. “No. I can promise you that was _not_ displeasure _or_ pain.”

“So I should continue?”

“Continuing would be good.”

Vincent laughed quietly. “We need some lubricant.”

“I’m guessing engine grease is out of the question.”

“Yes.”

“Well we’ve got lard, butter, olive oil, and four-day-old bacon grease.”

“Let’s go for olive oil.”

Vincent went for the olive oil, returning quickly with it, pouncing on Cid. Soon both were liberally covered in oil, tangled together in passion, golden in the muted late afternoon light, tangled in the sheets, their skin gleaming.

“This is nice,” said Cid quietly. 

“So you won’t mind letting me have you in the future?”

“No, but I gotta say I can’t wait to have you.”

Vincent kissed him. “We have all night.”

“I want this to last, but…”

“Me too. But we have a lifetime.”

“But we won’t have another first time.”

Vincent nodded, and kissed him, slowing his thrusts, which didn’t seem to ease the intensity at all. Suddenly the door flew open, and Tifa walked in, holding a garment box.

“I almost forgot. Vincent since your treatments are finished, I got you a new cape and OMIGOD I AM SO SORRY! I SHOULD HAVE KNOCKED! OH SHIT! OH GOD! I’M SORRY! I… I… I…am going to compose myself and stop staring and leave.”

Tifa left the box on the table, then turned and departed; hand over her face, red with mortification. Cid and Vincent watched her go, and then looked at each other.

“How long do you think it will be before she can look either of us in the face again?” asked Cid.

Vincent smiled and kissed him, running his hands through Cid’s blonde hair. “Who cares?”

“Now _there’s_ the Valentine attitude we know and love.”

***---***

“Cid?”

Cid turned, startled by the sound of the soft female voice. He stared in surprise at the woman before him.

“Missy?!”

“It’s me,” she said, smiling, eyes large and hopeful. “I was just in the neighbourhood and thought I’d drop by.”

Cid’s expression hardened. “You got a lot of nerve coming by here after what you did to me.”

“I know, I’m so sorry, I was really angry and hurt…”

“You got me run out of town on a rail is what you did! My town, that I helped build with my own hands.”

“I know, I’m so sorry…”

“Sorry my ass, look what the fuck are you doing here? You know you really get to me, you just… throw shit every time things don’t go your way and then assume people will just forgive you. Well I’m not in a forgiving mood.”

“I’m so sorry Cid. Please forgive me, I’ve changed.”

“Yeah? Into what? Just tell me why you’re here.”

She looked hurt and flustered. “I was hoping maybe you were… over this whole Vincent thing and… we could talk. You know… maybe… go for a drink sometime.”

Cid just stared at her. “Are you _out_ of your _mind_?”

Missy just stood and stared at him, lip quivering, eyes damp. Then there came a sudden sound, like the flap of sail, and she saw something suddenly rise up to an impossible height, like a great red and black bird with golden claws. As she stared, the creature flipped in the air, then plummeted downward, landing gracefully, with hardly a sound. Vincent rose to his feet, flipping his cloak around himself, while Cid grinned. 

“How does it feel to be able to do that again?”

Vincent smiled, almost shyly. “Good,” he said quietly.

Cid walked over to Vincent, reaching up to take his chin in hand, leaning close to kiss him softly. “It’s nice to be able to watch you fly again.”

“Cid..?” said Missy in a small, hopeful voice.

Cid turned to look at her. “Look do you mind just leaving? I’m not sure I want you around any future children Vincent and I may have. You understand of course.”

Then he turned and walked away, his arm around Vincent as they made their way to their little house.

“No regrets?” asked Vincent.

“Only one,” said Cid. He turned his head to look into Vincent’s eyes. 

“And what’s that?”

“I never asked Tifa how she used the heal materia to clean the fridge. All I did was raise a frozen chicken from the dead.”


End file.
